From Feral Lips
by IchorForInk
Summary: Loki is shocked by a fight in Jotunheim, and can't take his mind off what he saw - who he saw. There's a strange new arrival in Asgard who Loki suddenly takes an interest in. - "Loki still held tightly onto the mask, still too shocked for words..."
1. Chapter 1

A small trickle of dark, crimson liquid coursed freely down Loki's face from the gash in his forehead. It had been a near-miss on his rival's part, only barely catching the trickster's face in the heat of battle. So sparked a flame of interest in the character he faced; intrigue shone emerald in Loki's eyes as he traced the actions of a clear novice.

His opponent's torso and arms were covered entirely in an ivory, blood splattered fur; covering the face, a grotesquely beautiful mask whose mouth was open in a scream, four fangs across the mouth, wild red eyes and demonic horns; what little he did see of the blue Jötun skin, was adorned in dark, thick patterns of tribal tattoos. Magic was clear in their battle stance, if nothing else; shoulders pushed high and back, as though carrying a heavy burden, fingers splayed with palms to the icy ground, and bare feet whose toes only touched the ground beneath them. Slender and almost feminine in frame, it was shocking how strong they were until Loki took another long look over them.

Almost feminine? Perhaps, but even so, thick muscles stood out on bare legs, veins pulsed like mighty snakes under the skin, and long fingers cracked with each flex as though eager to test the young prince of Asgard.. A flash of white and red, and once more Loki was pushed back, only small slices being torn open each time the beast lashed out, and then it was back to its stand twenty metres from him.

Again and again came fluid, graceful, precise attacks from every exposed angle that Loki gave. He wasn't undefeated in battle, but this was ridiculous; the speed at which he was being targeted was immense, the ability rose beyond much of the training in Asgard. Continuously, he was forced to relinquish more and more of his own blood, staining the ice under him with the red droplets, his cheeks and forehead bled relentlessly...

Snarling, low and guttural, erupted from feral lips under the same fascinating mask his opponent hid underneath.

"You fight well, for a beginner." The trickster grinned through cracked, dry, thirsty lips, throwing another set of knives at his enemy, whose dodging failed them on the third and fourth knife, slicing through the thick polar fur to reveal naked and bleeding shoulders. Loki had always been precise in his targets, striking where was most effective to take down an enemy, and he had just rendered this one completely vulnerable by taking down their defence and offense in two shots.

Silent, the Jötun stood before Loki, who took careful steps forward, ready to strike them down once his curiosity was satisfied. Seeing their face while the enemy was alive was far less memorable than the cold, lifeless features of an already deceased _victim_. Once stood a few feet from his latest victory, the trickster reached out his thin fingers and curled them up under the chin of the mask, wrenching it free from its place on his opponent's head.

Plump, rouged lips curved up into a tooth-baring grin, snowy teeth glistened in the dim light of the Jötunheimr sun, long eyelashes fluttered in an attempt to keep flakes of ash of the fallen from wild eyes, thick raven locks of hair fell around stunning feral features as Loki stared into the amber eyes of a woman.

Frozen, he simply... held onto the mask, long tendrils of hot air releasing from his parted, quiet lips.

Grinning, the woman took a grand bow and fled, leaving barely a trace of footstep, and making no sound whatsoever. Loki still held tightly onto the mask, still too shocked for words; he was sure than no Jötun woman had ever been permitted to fight in battle. Of course, Loki's opinions on women didn't reflect their views, but they thought women should remain indoors, and do naught but bare their young, so that strong male Jötuns may rise up to fight, attack and defend their fabricated little empire.

A woman... He was almost killed by a Jötun woman, whom he knew nothing about; whom he had not learned of being a woman until he had already allowed her escape, no less. His body ached, bruised and covered in shallow scratches and deep cuts. His wounds were many, and they had fought for a long while... And now it was his task to return to Asgard and discover more of this she-wolf he had fought tooth and nail with.


	2. Chapter 2

Dark tendrils of hair clung to the woman's face as heavy beads of sweat and blood dribbled down her face; her chest heaved as she stood, breathless and trying to catch her voice so she could signal to others her arrival. The tattoos curled tighter around her, it seemed, her magic depleted so far that even the natural shine and light of her eyes dimmed to a dull, yellowish grey, and her already pale, icy blue skin appeared to hold a pinkish hue, the blood dragged to the surface so far that even the blue was leaking from her.

Minutes passed, and the cold seeped further into the woman, her strength slowly returning, eyes brightening with a catlike gleam to them, eager and cunning. Feline teeth shone as she grinned, calling out to those she knew lay hidden in shelter; before long, heads peered around corners and over rocks, each woman and child almost white with fear.

"I return." Her voice like silk and gravel both at once, savage and refined together, the woman stood proud and exposed in the snowdrifts. After a headcount - making sure no child had wandered from their mother or sister in the great battle which consumed and almost destroyed their clan - she leapt clumsily forward, half stumbling as she ran to the crowd of family and friends.

Little boys sprinted to her, cheering and giggling happily, "You came back! What happened? Tell us stories, like the last time!" They were old enough to speak, but no so much to understand the taboo of what she'd done... It broke her heart, to see such hope, only for others to crush it swiftly with black looks from other women.

"Oleg, Nari; I'll tell you all of the stories tonight, if you do one little thing for me, okay boys? You have to keep this secret! It's a little game, the one who tells anyone about this first loses, and I'll not be your friend any more, okay? Now then, little ones, go back to your mother, she's getting worried. I'll see you later!"

Of course, the men were not here yet, they would have never permitted a mere girl to fight for them, to humiliate them! The Jötuns were a proud, masculine race, whose hearts were filled with naught but black, boiling hatred for those in Asgard who oppressed them so; they were not about to allow a weak young lady to fight alongside them. A woman was only fit for bearing more children, an heir was all they were needed for. Kept and bred like cattle, the women often lived in fear of their husbands...

Even she, who was so brave to fight by unknowing kin, held a deep seated fear for men, whether Jötun or otherwise. Beaten and broken into submission from such a young and impressionable age would do that; it would break a girl's spirit. It was why she went to war and played her own hands in battle, the only way for her to be free was to fight in fear of her father, her fiancé, her owners discovering such a disrespectful, disgusting thing. But they would not find her, she was sure...

Until this night.

That one she had fought for so long; the slender one with piercing, gemstone eyes and a wicked, tempting smile. He had bled her near dry. Shallow gashes and deeper slices were clear on her face alone... She could barely hide from them all... No running could help her against them...

"Eira, you runt!" Snarling and furious, her father stormed through the gathering, knocking any who got in his way, pregnant woman, small children, even the elderly fell as the furious Jötun forced his way through them all, only to grab Eira by the throat and hold her still; "you are banished. I take you from this land, as your father I can will this upon you. You are banished, lest you prove worthy. You useless, disgusting little runt! I should have killed you at birth, to disgrace our clan name! I saw you running, you stupid little girl!"

Freedom had been granted.

Suddenly the weight of the nine realms had been lifted from her weary shoulders. Banished? What did she care, so long as her bruising and scars would from this moment henceforth be battle wounds, instead of abuse from her own blood. Choked laughter erupted from her squeezed throat, shocking everyone; even herself. Eira was free from all of the burdens he had laid upon her...

"Actually, I thought of something better for you... There is a way for you to redeem yourself... Otherwise, we will have you killed. You must kill the family ruling Asgard. Odin's blood must perish for you to return, or so much as survive, do you understand me, you worthless little wretch?" The fear returned with a vengeance... Death would be her punishment if she didn't kill the family of Odin...

Clawing to be free, Eira felt a warm, tingling, painful sensation rise through her face and up her nose; hot tears joined the caked on blood from her fight as she sobbed loudly, begging for her freedom. "Banish me! Banish me! Curse me to Muspellheimr! I cannot defeat an entire family! I am-"

More liquid down her face, but this time she barely had time to register as darkness enveloped the tear stained, blood caked young woman...

* * *

Loki's vision was crimson in rage; he had little idea of what to do. How had a woman – one from that realm – been so close to defeating him? How had he allowed himself to... The picture of the savage, beautiful woman appeared behind the lids of his eyes whenever he closed them, her skin and amber eyes, full of something he'd never seen before...

The trickster paced back and forth in his chambers, wondering far more how he had come across the woman in battle; how she had been permitted to fight was even more perplexing. With each question he raised inside his own mind, he chafed to learn, he itched to know what the answers were. Emerald eyes repeatedly glanced to the mask and its frightening, unique, hideous structure as he thought of her, and before long the face was forgotten, replaced by that screaming demon which had shrouded her features until the end.

Blood had dried onto Loki's skin by the time he managed to fight back the thought of his mysterious she-wolf fighter. His ebony hair hung in thick clumps, held together by the same crimson liquid which had patterned his face in freckles and smears. He needed to clean himself before the stench of iron and sweat took hold of his flesh; and so he bathed in fresh, cool water. Upon sinking his tender, naked form into the water, a breath of air gasped out of him, his eyes closed and screwed together as fresh wounds were cleansed in the bathwater. The liquid ran with a bloody colour, the longer he stayed in; whatever blood had dried now floated in chunks in the water. It was disgusting, but necessary to clean himself however he could. Twice he drained the tub to refill it with fresher, cleaner, cooler water to bathe again, only to have the tub take a reddish hue once more.

Long, he lay in the water, rubbing his skin with soap; hissing with the stinging sensation it brought upon his injured body. Lower he sank into the bath, listening to mutterings and giggling outside the doors as servants scurried past, chattering incessantly about their days, and how Olaf and Johanna were caught in the stables doing things they shouldn't have, or how so-and-so's child had finally become a man, etcetera, etcetera...

_"Did you hear about the girl they found? On the Bifrost!"_ A young woman gasped, standing outside the doors to where the god of mischief lay; she was speaking to another, her friend returned the gasp with renewed force.

_"What do you mean, the girl?"_

"Oh, wait until I tell you! She was found

_**naked**__on the Bifrost! The woman was completely naked! Oh, but the men don't mind, no, not at all! Poor lady was brought back here, they think she's a noblewoman! How embarrassing! Oh she's gorgeous though, I saw her when they started carrying her back to the palace! She's resting here somewhere. I wonder what she... "_ The voices started to fade as they began to walk away, still nattering away about it, the first one only being interrupted occasionally for feedback like "what does she look like?", "really?" and "oh how awful!".


	3. Chapter 3

Wrapping himself tightly in a towel, the trickster's pale, wet form moved across the room to gather his fresh clothing, his hair dripping and hanging low over his features as he did so. Loki hurried to dry himself, his body still sore to the touch, even the lightest of cloths pained him, but he endured. Even the trickster himself was curious; a woman found naked on the Bifrost? How did she get there without being seen by at least Heimdall? When the two unknowing informants had left, more followed, each sharing new pieces of knowledge with the hidden listener, and he had discovered her distress once she woke... Somehow she recollected nothing of how she came to get there, to the Bifrost, or anywhere across Asgard.

Once dressed, Loki smiled to himself and ran long fingers through his hair, slicking it back so he could see everything with more clarity. There was a chance that the woman had been enchanted, from the snippets he had heard, and so he thought that he should visit her to at least feign an interest in the magic behind it all. So swiftly he carried himself down the halls of his palace, clean shoes clacking against the golden floors with each new step he took in the direction of a guard – he cared nothing for which one he spoke to, so long as they had decent knowledge of where the woman was being held. Sharp eyes found themselves training on one, the first he saw, and his pace quickened to one as near to a jog as he could do without lowering his stature among the Asgardians.

"Might I inquire as to rumours regarding a young woman appearing this afternoon?" He started, smiling at the man before him, "I heard from servants of one being found, and I wish to examine the girl. Magic may have been at work, if rumours are true, and who else to prove them than the realm's most adequate sorcerer?"

Brow furrowing slightly, the guard nodded, shifting slightly to point Loki in the right direction. Why he remained silent, the trickster didn't know – nor did he care too much for it – whether frightened to speak to a prince of Asgard, or simply too ashamed to, it was his own reasoning.

-

"She needs her rest! Prince Loki, my lord Loki, the lady has just suffered the most profound embarrassment! Surely, my lord, you understand?" A girl, barely turned woman, stood with her arms wide to bar his entry to the guest room. Blonde ringlets of hair fell around her distressed features; the fear of standing up to him was clearly rattling her nerves.

A sigh, and the trickster waved a slender hand at the petite young woman who stood frozen to the spot. "Girl, get out of my way. I will not wake her, merely check upon her health. My sorcery is more accurate than any of your servant analyses, and you each know this. Allow my passage or I will see to it that your days are riddled with chaos and cruel tricks," and no sooner than the words passed his thin lips, the girl stepped aside and fled the scene, her shoes clicking against the floor as she did so.

Loki pressed one hand against the door for a moment, placing the other on its handle, waiting a few seconds before turning the knob and slipping through the huge mahogany doors that bore entrance to the chambers of Asgard's latest guest. Keen eyes scanned the room, only to greet the smile that spread across his fine features as he beheld a sleeping woman, who he carefully, quietly strode up to, taking in each aspect as his emerald eyes licked across them.

Thick, rosy lips and long curved eyelashes held Loki in his place, the enrapturing beauty of the woman before him was so wild and untamed that he could barely bring himself to touch the back of his hand to her forehead so her temperature could be checked. A halo of thick, raven locks captured her fine cheekbones, holding them peaceful and at rest. Had she ever regained consciousness since being found? The servant spoke as though she had, but Loki was not so certain. The woman's chest rose and fell at such a rapid pace he thought she was having a fit at first, but then her eyes flickered open to reveal stunning amber orbs watching him.

She knew this man.

"My apologies, my lady, I am here to do you no ill, merely to ensure your health is decent." Voice as silky and sweet as honey dripping into a familiar jar, Loki smiled softly at the woman, whose scarred, beautiful, naked form had been uncovered as the figure leapt up and into a defensive stance.

He knew he should move; that he should run and inform others that she had awoken, or to at least order servants to bring her clothes, but those feral amber eyes held his so fast that the god could do little else but focus on each difficult breath he took. Whether this was fear or something completely different, the trickster knew not, nor did he care; the emotion wrapped around him, suffocating and enveloping his entire being for a long while until her gaze shifted from his, and the woman was back under the covers, hidden and shuddering in fear of the unknown.

A frown twitched at his features, "I do not mean to..."

_"Get out! You repulsive, disgusting being! Get out of this room, lest I tear the pipes from your throat!"_ Came her reply from under quaking covers.

"Do not speak to me as such!"

_"By Hela I will speak to you as such if I please! Leave my sight, you disgusting, foul creature, and do not have me lay eyes upon you once more, or I will have your head on a spike!"_

"I am a prince!"

_"You are a fool, and no prince of mine!"_

Too stunned to speak, Loki stood soundlessly and left, the only noise made in the motion was that of the door swinging closed behind him. Eira was alone once more and away from the man she had so recently fought on the battlefield; many of her wounds were marks of his, her fingers trailed over the one which ran an ugly jagged line down part of her right arm absently in thought. It was his fault she had been banished, and he was to blame for the likelihood of her death in the near future. Intense loathing filled her being, and for a moment she had considered slipping a blade down his throat, until realising that not only had she no weapons, she could not bring herself to kill outside of battle, and had never been able to do so.

If Loki discovered why she'd been discovered there, why her unconscious, beaten form had appeared on the Bifrost so soon after a battle, her head would be the only thing returning to her clan. Between a rock and a hard place, Eira was given little choice but to do as she was ordered; it was the only way she could possibly survive the ordeal. To take down the royal family of Asgard.

Her entire body went rigid at the thought, her pupils dilated and her head felt weak once more. Her tattoos were gone, and her more icy form had been replaced by one of Asgardian complexion, her race had always been able to shape-shift, but never had she so much as attempted this image... For now though, she would rest, and then it would be her task to escape. To stay distanced and disappear; hiding was a talent, staying hidden was a difficulty. Eira would escape without murder and without being murdered... She hoped.


End file.
